Softhoof PI
by Silas Grimm
Summary: The adventures of Snoop Softhoof, Private Investigator, and his band of friends and associates, as they try to keep a PI firm afloat, face danger, and solve mysteries, while learning about life and friendship. Rated M just for safety. Multiple OC's.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Bad Tidings In Canterlot

Few things are more terrifying than the sight of an infuriated monarch. As history has proven time and again, when those in power are angered, it is usually their subordinates that must bear the brunt of that fury. So it was no surprise that a certain royal guard by the name of Augustus Trot found himself sweating nervously in his armor, trying very hard to look small and unobtrusive in his little corner of the throne room of Celestia, princess of Equestria, as she paced back and forth reading a letter with an expression of fury, punctuating her thoughts with the occasional snort. Of course, appearing small is a difficult task for a midnight-black stallion on the larger side of huge, while wearing polished plate-mail armor.

Augustus had no idea what could be written on the little parchment scroll that could so infuriate her, and he was somewhat taken aback at her outburst of anger. Normally, the princess was cool and collected, maintaining her regal poise throughout every crisis. Augustus had seen her range from bored to joyful in his three years as a guard. This was the first time he had seen her angry, which made it that much scarier. _If I get through this, _he thought to himself, _I'm requesting a transfer. _

Of course, Celestia being Celestia, harming one of her own faithful guards was the one of the very last things she would ever do, and as fearful as her ire was, she was truly benevolent at heart. However, if there was ever a time she might have considered killing another living being, it was while reading that message from Twilight Sparkle. Celestia was willing to tolerate a great deal, but the idea that there was any creature willing to harm one of her ponies was beyond the pale. Her subjects were loving, affable, and generally friendly creatures. Some certainly had their quirks or some minor defect of personality, but they would never deliberately harm any creature unless directly threatened. Once more, she read through the message carefully.

_Dear Princess Celestia,_

_It has been a trying day here in Ponyville. Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash are in the hospital. They were found near Sweet Apple Acres with severe injuries inflicted by an assailant of unknown origin. They will both recover, but if Big Macintosh had not come across them, there is no question their wounds would have been fatal. Neither has yet regained consciousness, and we are hopeful that they might shed some light on the matter when they recover. The mayor has ordered that everypony must travel in groups until the culprit is apprehended. I have placed protective magical barriers on the library, and will have Fluttershy stay there with Spike for the duration of this crisis. _

_I request that at your earliest convenience, you send somepony with the necessary training to assist us in this matter. Applejack and Big Macintosh are patrolling the streets, and Spike is camping out on the roof with my telescope to keep an eye on things, but we really need a professional. Princess, the way that Pinkie and Dash were hurt . . . it was brutal. Downright vicious. I barely recognized them. They were cut open, deep slashes along their faces and necks, Dash's right wing was almost torn off, and Pinkie might lose her right foreleg. Even with the best medicine and healing magic we have, there are going to be scars. I'm really scared, and I don't know what to do next. Most creatures are content to leave us alone, so long as we don't intrude on their lives. What would do this? What _**could**_do this?_

_ I don't know much about injuries like this, but when I looked at them, I noticed something odd, which the doctors confirmed. These cuts weren't made by claws. It looked like a cut from a knife. A very big, sharp knife. Also, Applejack told me that, when she looked for hoof-prints, she found some that were strangely shaped, not like anything I've ever heard of. I'm going to go down in the morning and take a mold of one. Applejack also gathered that whatever did this is tall, about six feet, but is surprisingly light-weight for such a large creature, little more than two-hundred pounds. Also, it walks on two legs, the way that Spike generally does. I suppose that might account for its comparatively small weight, although that certainly makes it sound rather awkward. I hope you know what we are dealing with because it sounds unlike anything I have ever heard of._

_ Your faithful student,_

_ Twilight Sparkle_

Princess Celestia glared at the paper. "Augustus!" She spoke more sharply than she intended and winced when the already tightly-wound guard jumped noticeably. She sighed, cooling her head. She had to maintain her composure. It wouldn't do to go scaring everypony. Her sister did enough of that already. "I'm sorry," she said more gently, "I didn't mean to spook you. I need you to go down to the Canterlot merchant's quarter and bring me that investigator, Snoop Softhoof. Go quickly, go quietly, speak to nopony."

Princess Celestia turned back to her writing desk and prepared a quill, ink bottle, and parchment. She paused, considering. What was Twilight thinking about right now? Probably the welfare of her friends. Twilight was like that, after all. So much more outgoing than before. What then, would be the most encouraging message to send? Celestia thought a few moments longer then smiled as she reached a decision. She levitated the quill and moved it gently across the page, writing with neat, clearly legible writing, forgoing her usual, more flowery penmanship.

_Twilight,_

_ Help is on the way._

_ -Celestia_

She summoned her magic and the parchment vanished with a crackle of displaced air. The princess often wished she could be there to see one of her messages arrive. She was told that Spike produced them with a tongue of green fire, but it was also somehow hilarious, and nopony ever explained why. The absurdity of her idle curiosity given the situation struck her and she couldn't restrain a chuckle, in spite of herself.

Meanwhile, Augustus Trot tore at breakneck pace down the stairs, desperately putting distance between himself and the princess. She had seemed more like herself at the end there, but he was now aware exactly how forced her calm demeanor was. He wanted to be as far away as possible. And he still wanted that damn transfer.

* * *

><p>In the wilderness of the Everfree forest, a small shrub sat near an oak tree. It had been growing quite contentedly for about four years, and it had never been unduly disturbed. All in all, it was happy, to the extent that any plant is capable of being happy, at any rate. It got enough light; the ground was moist and sufficiently fertile. Sadly for that shrub, that was all about to end. Given that it had neither ears nor eyes it never heard footsteps approaching, never saw the blade that severed it from its roots. Its lack of a central nervous system spared it the pain of burning as it was tossed on a small campfire. The moisture in the leaves crackled and popped loudly as it burned.<p>

The tired man that watched as the shrub was consumed, given that the shrub lacked these capacities and presumably therefore a soul, felt no guilt about burning the unlucky plant. He did feel a great deal of remorse as he looked down at the knife in his hand. It was still covered in blood. "That was a true-blue fuckup," he muttered to himself. He could practically hear a drill instructor screaming in his ear, "What the fuck were you thinking, shithead? You don't know the difference between a hostile and a civilian? Let me clue you in: the ones that aren't trying to kill you are civilians!" Once more, he played back those moments in his head.

* * *

><p><em>He had awoken to find himself leaning against a fence. His knife and gear were there but his rifle was gone. His Kevlar vest was tight and rigid, indicating he'd been hit. After a few moments of numb shock, the pain hit, confirming he had at least two broken ribs. This was not a pleasant realization, especially in a war zone . . . except that he was obviously nowhere near the little mountain village in southern Afghanistan. It didn't even look like the right continent. <em>

_There were no gunshots, no screaming villagers, only a couple of small horses, approaching him cautiously along the fence line to his right. Naturally, it struck him as incongruous with his admittedly limited knowledge of horses that one of them was pink, but in the grand scheme of things, that was a minor enough detail. They had jumped back as he sat up, hissing in pain as the motion made his broken ribs shift in his flesh. He shook off a wave of nausea. In the absence of medical treatment, (or any kind of help for that matter,) he would have to fight through it. _

_He tried to take in his surroundings properly now, in an attempt to get his bearings. Before him, in neat rows that disappeared beyond his vision, was a massive apple orchard. He tried to reconcile this with his memory prior to losing conscious. Nothing clicked. He had turned his gaze again to the horses. His field of vision was filled by a pink face with impossibly large eyes. He heard a fast-paced jumble of words he couldn't understand in a frightening, high pitch. _

_He was taken completely off guard, and in his confused state, his training kicked in before his brain could work out what was happening. He drew his knife and struck out at the pink face. A line or red appeared across the horse's muzzle. It drew back with a high squeal. Not wanting to be trampled, he lashed out again, catching the animal at the knee joint. His knife bit deep. _

_The blue one caught up to its friend. If the man hadn't known better, he would have sworn it had a concerned expression on its face. "Pinkie, what hap-" in the time the horse said this, the man processed several things: one, that horse is talking; two, I understand the words; three, it isn't going to like that I hurt its friend; four, kill them both before they do something else weird. He acted. The second horse was faster and saw the knife coming. It escaped a fatal blow, but he opened a shallow cut along its neck. The next five or six seconds were a blur of stomping, narrow misses, and frantic slashing. Somewhere along the line, he tried to flank his blue opponent as the pink one collapsed, and noticed that his knife bit into a wing, apparently growing from the light-blue animal's side. He spun and brought the knife handle down on the back of its head, rather than contemplate this oddity. As it collapsed, unconscious or dead, he didn't know, he heard the beating of more hooves approaching. He quickly decided that it was time to move on._

_As he was turning to go, something grabbed his pant-leg. He looked down to find the mutilated pink pony holding the fabric with its hoof, as though it possessed invisible fingers. He looked into its eyes, impossibly wide, on a face covered in cuts. The blood pooled around its head as it returned his gaze, and its eyes had no hatred, held no blame. They were concerned, scared, and pained, but they were not the eyes of an enemy. No enemies he had ever known held so much sympathy for their killers. The mouth moved to speak a single word that shook him to his core. "Sorry."_

* * *

><p>He returned to himself after reliving the confusing, guilt-ridden memories. He had run as far as he was able after that. He had made it into what was, according to a conveniently placed sign, the "Everfree Forest." He had struggled out of the vest, which was restricting his breathing, and ditched it well inside the tree line. His camouflage pattern was designed for rocky deserts of the middle east, not dense forest, but it was all he had. His pack was gone along with his rifle, and with it his rations. He had a few bland nutrient bars in his pocket, and he ate one slowly. After binding his chest as best he could, he proceeded deeper into the forest. At last, he could go no further. He built a small fire as the night came on and the air grew colder.<p>

That inner drill instructor just kept on berating him. It didn't matter that his shoot-first instinct had been honed by the last couple of years spent fighting for his life ever since he had hired on with a small PMC, tackling work across the middle-east. He looked at the USMC-issued dog tags hanging from his neck for the hundredth time that night. Silas Tracey. He missed his days in the Marines. Back then, he could at least feel like a proper hero about his work.

Of course, he didn't hurt innocent people, no matter what the news media said about mercenaries. It wasn't part of the job description. He fought armed and hostile enemies. The only real difference between his days as a Jar Head and his current career was that he did it for serious pay. Maybe some of the jobs were a little dirty, politically motivated maybe, but so what? He drew the line at hurting civilians; he was still a Marine at heart.

He couldn't argue that the horses weren't people. They had talked. They were intelligent. That made them _some _kind of people, didn't it? Hell, even if they were just dumb animals he probably would have felt bad about the whole thing. Sure he was hurt and scared but that didn't excuse his lapse in judgment or his actions. Fear and pain were things he had trained long and hard to control, and he had failed miserably.

That thought brought up the issue of his condition. He was wounded, in unfamiliar territory, and the only intelligent inhabitants were no doubt hunting him by this point. He had, in his confusion and fear, cut himself off from any hope of medical help, and made himself a hunted fugitive with a potentially serious injury. "Great fuckin' job, dumbass," he said to himself grimly as he lay down to get what rest he could. The shrub in the fire gave a final crackle as the flames died down to embers.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Private Investigator Snoop Softhoof nibbled gingerly on a cupcake he had purchased at his favorite bakery on the corner of Blane Boulevard and Mane Street. He had a long-standing love affair with sweets, hardly a rare trait among the ponies of Equestria, but something he had always felt was well justified. Who made better sweets than ponies? He was in good shape, despite his eating habits. His job kept him active, and his light gray coat and charcoal mane kept a certain sheen that still impressed the fillies.

He leaned back in his seat, the slightly messy office of his private investigation firm conveying the perfect balance of efficient industry and disregard for typical organization. He made it clear to anyone that entered that he was the best at what he did, _because_ he didn't follow the usual procedure. Leave that to the two-bit hack detectives in the Canterlot PD. Snoop was fond of saying that Detective Brightshine couldn't find a clue if you threw it at him. He was probably right.

He sat up when he heard rapid, heavy hoofsteps on the stairs outside his door. The way the steps reverberated, even inside his office, meant whoever was coming was wearing heavy plate armor. That meant Royal Guard. Snoop went through his memory, trying to recall any recent activity that might have garnered the attention of the Royal Guard. Generally speaking, he was a good guy, but as a necessary part of his occupation as private investigator, he kept some under-the-table friendships with ponies that weren't exactly model citizens. Several reasons that the Royal Guard might be coming for a visit flashed through his mind. None of them were pleasant.

Still, there was nowhere to run, he was on the third story and as an earth pony he had neither wings nor magic to aid him. He kept some brass hooves in the drawer of his desk, but that wouldn't help against the burnished plate-mail of the guard. However, he noticed that there only seemed to be one visitor. This calmed him slightly, if any of his theories had been correct there would have been a squad at least. It did, however, raise some questions. The door opened.

* * *

><p>Augustus Trot huffed and puffed. He had run all the way to the dingy little office building in the merchant's quarter where the PI Softhoof worked. His muscles began to burn from the effort as he climbed the stairs with heavy hooves, and he knew he must look awful, but he was far beyond caring. He wished he could have left his armor, but it was required uniform while on duty, and given the reputation of the Merchant's quarter, it seemed more prudent to come ready for trouble.<p>

At last, he burst through the door conveniently marked "Softhoof Investigational Services." There at the desk sat a savvy-looking pony with a magnifying glass cutie-mark and expression of studied indifference. "Can I help you?" Snoop asked mildly. "Are you Snoop Softhoof?" Augustus asked bluntly, drawing himself up to his full imposing height. The stallion was proud of his stature, it made him very intimidating. Snoop was either not impressed, or good at hiding it.

"Yes," replied Softhoof, "May I ask what business the Royal Guard has with a small-time PI?" Augustus snorted. "Just get up and come with me. I don't have time to answer a lot of questions." "I only asked one," Snoop said, his voice cool, "and not an unreasonable one, really."

"Princess Celestia has asked to see you, immediately if not sooner." That statement broke through the investigator's reserve. Nopony that was asked for by the princess would ever refuse. She was well loved and held in awe by all, a personal audience with her was broadly considered to be the utmost honor anypony could achieve, and _she_ had asked to see _him_?

Softhoof donned his trademark dark-gray fedora and matching coat. "Well, let's get going then," he said, trying to recover his more stoic demeanor, and failing as a slight quaver of excitement entered his voice. He was about to see the palace! He would give his legs to know half of the secrets contained within. He could barely contain himself, but at the least he didn't bolt down the stairs at top speed. He frustrated the hell out of poor Augustus by maintaining a steady, calm pace all the way to the palace.

* * *

><p>Twilight Sparkle sat at the bedside of two of her best friends. The doctors had done an excellent job, the stitches were clean, and with her magic, she had ensured the scaring would be minimal. Dash would have some noticeable lines on her flank and Pinkie would have a crescent at the corner of her right eye, but her hair would cover that well enough. The endangered limb had been saved, and would function normally after a few weeks of therapy.<p>

It had been some hours since the attack, darkness had settled on Equestria, and Twilight had returned to the hospital knowing she would be unable to sleep. The library was secure and nopony had seen anything unusual that night. Celestia's promise that help was coming had given Twilight some comfort, but she still felt the need to be with her friends.

At about eight o'clock, she was watching the stars through the window, when she heard a stirring from Pinkie Pie's bed. She rushed to her friend's side in time to see the hyper-active party-pony return to consciousness. "Twilight?" she moaned. "I'm here Pinkie Pie," said Twilight, "How do you feel?" Pinkie Pie turned slightly to face her. "Pretty bad," she said after a moment, "Did I get into another cupcake stunt eating contest?" Twilight grinned in spite of herself. "No Pinkie, we're not entirely sure what exactly happened. If you still don't feel well, you should try to rest."

Pinkie Pie snorted. "I'm not tired, just hungry. And my face hurts. Is there food?" Twilight called for a nurse and after checking with a doctor, some food was brought in. Pinkie managed to chew and swallow normally, which Twilight took to be a good sign. Her friend's normally cheerful expression was twisted with pain, and Twilight winced in sympathy when Pinkie Pie tried to sit up too fast.

"Settle down, missy," the nurse scolded, "you need to rest up for a few days before you try moving around much." Pinkie Pie settled back into the bed with a reproachful glare at the nurse. "Alright, big meanie," she said in a tone somewhat more typical for her. Twilight smiled a little at that. It was good to have Pinkie Pie acting more like herself. However, business couldn't wait.

"Pinkie Pie," Twilight said in her favorite serious voice, "We need to know what happened. Do you remember?" Pinkie Pie looked thoughtful for a few moments. Of course, being herself, that meant sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth, rolling her eyes slowly, and raising one eyebrow as high as it would go. Twilight restrained a chuckle, knowing that in her own way, Pinkie Pie was taking the matter as seriously as she was able.

"I remember that I was with Rainbow Dash, and we were talking about a fun prank to play on Applejack," she recalled haltingly, "She said that she saw something weird down by the fence, but that's all I remember." The pink ponies eye's widened as realization dawned on her. "Wait, did something bad happen? Is Dashie okay?" Now her expression was frantic, all humor banished at the thought that her friend might be hurt.

Twilight placed a restraining hoof on her friend's brow, forestalling any attempt to rise. "Calm down, she was hurt but she's going to be okay too. She's sleeping in the bed across from you there, just beyond the curtains," she explained. Pinkie Pie calmed down a little, knowing the courageous blue Pegasus was out of danger. "We think you were attacked by something. We don't have any details yet, but we hope to learn something soon. Celestia promised that she would send help, and in the morning I'm going to go down to look at the spot where we found you two. Maybe I can learn something."

"Okay Twilight," Pinkie Pie said, "I'm feeling kinda sleepy, so I'm gonna take a little nap." With that, she snuggled down in the sheets and promptly started snoring. Twilight smiled at her, glad that her friend was doing better. Still, she was worried about what had happened, and Rainbow Dash was still unconscious. The tired little unicorn felt her head begin to droop, and within a few minutes, she too was asleep.

* * *

><p>Augustus Trot was not happy. He hadn't been happy since Celestia had first started reading that note and it seemed to be a trend that would hold out for some time to come. Snoop Softhoof was infuriating. He had completely ignored the urgency of his situation all the way to the palace. When they had at last arrived in Celestia's throne room, a full hour after dusk had settled, Augustus had been ready to shake the little pony by the scruff of his neck. Celestia had greeted the affable PI cordially, and asked that her advisors leave the room. She had asked the hapless guard to remain.<p>

"Snoop Softhoof," she had begun once they were alone, "You have proven many times the superiority of your investigative talents. Word of your success has even reached my ears. I am particularly impressed by accounts of the incident last month, the one involving the hair and that bucket of paint."

Softhoof was embarrassed, receiving praise from such a high personage as a princess. He looked at his hooves and managed to say, "Yes, well, if they were going to smuggle jewels they really ought to have been more careful than to leave behind evidence in their own hideout." His modesty had appealed to the kind monarch. "Yet you were able to find that evidence even after my own police force declared it clean. It is because of your skill that I have brought you here. I have a job for you."

Snoop had almost fallen over right then. Augustus tried not to roll his eyes. The sooner this was over, the sooner he could be relieved and fall into his nice soft bunk. "This is a matter of the utmost urgency, and of course, it must be handled with discretion. Before you accept, be warned that there will most likely be an element of danger. Knowing this, will you accept the case?" Celestia spoke with a tone that made it clear that she would not be upset if he refused. It also made it impossible for Snoop to do so.

"Of course, princess, I will be happy to assist in any way I can," Snoop said with a deep bow. The princess smiled. "Very good, I appreciate your help. I received this report a few hours ago. Two ponies have been attacked and seriously injured by an unknown assailant. The details are here." She turned to collect the same note that she had been reading earlier and levitated it before the private investigator, allowing him to read it carefully before speaking again. "I need you to go to Ponyville and discover the one responsible for this heinous crime. A flying carriage has been prepared to take you both immediately."

Augustus started. "Both, milady?" he asked hesitantly. "Yes, Augustus," Celestia said with an authoritative look, "Snoop is clever, but he is no fighter. I want someone on the ground to protect and assist him." Her expressions softened somewhat. "I know I ask much of you, but you are my best and only option for this assignment." Augustus had bowed, cursing inwardly, knowing there was no response other than, "Yes milady."

* * *

><p>So it was that an hour later, he found himself tearing across the night sky in a Pegasus-drawn carriage. Snoop sat beside his protector, going over the known information and jotting down facts and observations in a small notebook. "Augustus," he asked, glancing at the large stallion, "if you wouldn't mind telling me; how long have you been a guard?" "Three years," Augustus said gruffly.<p>

"I see," said Snoop, jotting something on his notebook, "and where did you receive your training?" Augustus glowered at the nosy little pony, but it accomplished nothing. With a sigh, he answered, "I did my basic at the Manesdale Guard Academy, graduated third in my class, then went on to specialize in hoof-to-hoof combat training with the Canterlot Royal Guard. They recruited me from there, and I've been in the Royal Guard ever since. Yes, before you ask, it's unusual for somepony to go into the Royal Guard without at least a few years of experience as a town guard, but I guess I managed to make an impression. Anything else you want to ask?"

Snoop jotted furiously in his notebook, and responded absently, "Not now, but I'm sure I'll think of something later." The big stallion sighed again. This was going to be one of the most irritating tasks he had ever undertaken. Still, there was no way to defy a royal decree. Not from Celestia at any rate. That sister of hers . . . Augustus shuddered. If there was anypony more terrifying than Celestia, it was Princess Luna. In theory, she was reformed, or at least, reforming. He remembered the panic when she had returned to Equestria. When Celestia had gone missing, the entire Royal Guard had been scrambled to find her. In Augustus' opinion, she didn't seem much better. Always barking commands in that arrogant, Olde-Equestrian bellow of hers. "Something about that mare ain't right," he muttered under his breath."

"What was that?" Snoop asked, looking up from his notes. "Nothing, Snoop, just thinking out loud," said Augustus, wishing he could learn to keep his mouth shut.

Snoop nodded sagely. "An excellent mental exercise. As long as you're using your brain, let me bounce some of my own thoughts off of you." Without waiting for Augustus to respond, he began, "Our culprit is bipedal, most likely six feet tall or higher, around two-hundred pounds in weight. Its hooves are strange in shape. It used a knife to attack the victims. It was outnumbered, but succeeded in inflicting horrific injuries in a surprisingly short period of time, which indicates that it managed to take them completely off-guard, and probably possesses some skill as a fighter. As a biped, I doubt very much that it could cover as much ground as a pony, so it probably hasn't gone far." Augustus was awestruck. Not that the observations were exceptional, anypony could have reached more or less the same conclusion. It was that Snoop hadn't taken a single breath in reciting these facts.

"Well?" Snoops asked with an expectant look on his face. "Well what?" said Augustus dumbly. Snoops sighed. "Well, what do you think? Do you have any thoughts at all on what I just said?" The Royal Guard bent his brain to the task for a few moments. What did Snoop's assessment tell him? Bipedal, sneaky, trained fighter, used a small blade . . . .

"Got it," said Augustus proudly. Snoops sat upright with anticipation. The stallion continued, "If it's bipedal, its ribcage would be exposed to its front in a fight. However, its head might be harder to get at, being so high, making incapacitating blows more difficult to accomplish. If it's armed, I don't want to get too close, so hopefully whatever appendage it uses to swing the knife isn't too long, giving me an advantage in reach. Failing that, it would be ideal to catch it off guard. My assessment: a surprise attack to the torso to topple it and bring its head down, where I can get in a second kick to the head, which should finish the matter."

Snoop was utterly aghast at his protector's response. Of course, Augustus was entirely correct, but still, his "assessment" was geared entirely toward beating the living daylights out of the suspect, and quite possibly killing it. "So," the little investigator said mildly, "anything to offer on what our culprit might actually _be_?" Augustus shrugged. "Your problem, not mine."

Snoop turned back to his little notebook. _It's just as well really,_ he thought, _I'm used to doing the hard work alone._ For the remainder of the flight, Augustus worked out thirty-eight possible strategies for taking down the target, whatever it might be. Snoop Softhoof went over his notes, asked no more questions, and never once let the blood-thirsty stallion out of his sight.

* * *

><p>The rest of the night passed in silence, and they arrived outside of Ponyville shortly after dawn. The carriage touched down in a field across from Sweet Apple Acres, the reported scene of the crime, and Softhoof stepped down to the ground. After thanking the Pegasi that had pulled for them, the unlikely duo trotted off toward the crime scene, which had been thoughtfully marked with bright yellow tape. Snoop was surprised to see an, admittedly lovely, unicorn filly already there, apparently preoccupied with the ground in front of her. The dashing PI was always gratified when his work brought him into contact with the fairer members of the fairer sex, and he was not the least bit disappointed.<p>

"Well," he said, trotting toward the oblivious unicorn, an optimistic grin on his face, "let's get to work then shall we?" Augustus looked at the carriage as it leapt into the sky, the flapping wings of the Pegasi kicking up dirt as it made a bee-line back to Canterlot. When it was out of sight, the Royal Guard dutifully turned to follow his charge. He _still_ wanted that damn transfer.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It was early morning when the human Silas Tracey awoke. It took several moments for the events of the previous day to catch up with him, and when they did, he groaned. Part of him had hoped it was all a bad dream, but dreams didn't hurt the way he did now. It took serious effort to breath, and he was ravenous and thirsty. He rolled over; trying to find some form of comfort, but it was no use.

At last, he got to his feet, slowly and shakily, his limbs responding sluggishly, weakened by pain and fatigue. His thoughts slowly ordered themselves. His first priority was to find somewhere out of the elements to stay. Once he had that, he could worry about extending his meager supplies with whatever he could hunt or harvest. Finally, he needed medical treatment. He kicked dirt over the ashes of his small fire, and took a small swig from his canteen, only to find it nearly empty. The last droplets of water ran down his throat, doing little to slake his thirst. He would have to find water, and soon.

As he set off through the forest, he took note of the plants around him. Some were familiar, here an oak tree, here elm, and some ferns that looked ordinary enough. Others, however, baffled him. Flowers bloomed in a bewildering variety of colors that somehow failed to detract from the general gloom of the forest.

His footsteps were muffled and his vision was obscured by a heavy mist that seemed to drape itself about the branches of the trees, like some ethereal moss. He half expected meet resistance when he touched it, but it parted, nothing more than vapor. Strange calls sounded out around him, but no form of fauna approached him, his unknown and unnatural scent warning the inhabitants of the forest away.

* * *

><p>Some distance away, another figure moved through the fog, albeit with considerably more grace and confidence. Her stripes flashed in the dim light of the forest, familiar by now to the creatures around her. Zecora had chosen to leave her heavy cloak behind on this fine morning. The sun would warm the forest soon, and she didn't want to spend the day drenched in sweat.<p>

She looked around at the land that had proven to be a wonderful new home to her. The forest reminded her of the jungles of her homeland. A chatty little squirrel swarmed down an old elm tree beside her and chattered to her. She smiled widely. "I'm glad that you are doing well. You've gotten fatter I can tell." Her rhyming mode of speech charmed many of the ponies that inhabited Equestria, and she found that it gave her a pleasing eloquence in communicating that could extend beyond her own species. The squirrel chattered some more, sounding pleased with her assessment of his health, but then stopped and looked serious.

Now, considering the cautious nature of squirrels, this sudden silence and observation was a familiar action to Zecora in her dealings with the creatures. What was not familiar was the strange sound that the animal began to make, a hissing, chattering, spitting sound that rose from its tiny chest. Zecora had no idea what to make of it, but before she could inquire, it let out a last sniff that indicated something like, "Danger, climb a tree." With that, it vanished back up the trunk with a flash of its tail, suiting his words with actions and leaving a bemused Zecora behind.

She shrugged, and continued anyway. As far as squirrels were concerned, most of the world in which they lived constituted a threat to one degree or another, especially in the Everfree forest. She had never seen that particular form of panic attack before, but she supposed that its meaning would become clear in due course. In the meantime, she had work to do. Herbs had to be collected, new potions made.

As she walked however, she began to worry. The birds were uncommonly quiet; animals fled from the path, the air itself seemed to carry menace. Zecora could not deny that something was profoundly wrong. Gradually, she saw the pattern. The animals moved in almost every direction, but never north. They were telling her, clearly, "Don't go that way." She promptly turned north.

* * *

><p>"Hello Miss." Twilight was so deep in concentration that she immediately equated the greeting from behind her with an attack. She lashed out; satisfied to feel her hind hooves connect. Turning to face her opponents, she was surprised to see a light-gray pony lying flat on his back, while an enormous black stallion wearing the plate-mail Royal Guard uniform, chuckled in a hearty voice, "Oh haha! She really got you Snoop! Well done Miss! Hohahaho!"<p>

Twilight relaxed. These were friendly ponies, although the large stallion was rather intimidating if only because of his size. As her shock faded, she began to feel bad about hurting the poor pony that had addressed her. "I'm so sorry," she said, helping him to his hooves where he tottered unsteadily for a moment. Gradually, he regained his composure, collecting a fedora from the dust and placing it back on his head.

"Quite alright, quite alright my dear. I haven't been hit that hard for some time," said the recovered pony, "My name is Snoop Softhoof, private detective, and this is my associate Augustus Trot of the Royal Guard, here to investigate the attack here. May I ask your name, Miss?" This was all said with a slight slur, and the twin shiners forming on his face robbed his rather formal introduction of much dignity.

Twilight did not whole-heartedly trust Softhoof. She had the feeling he had been behind her enjoying the view somewhat longer than was appropriate. Ponies may not often wear clothes, but staring is still quite rude. Under different circumstances, she would have taken the time to tell him off, but he had said he was there to help.

"Did the Princess send you?" Twilight asked, speaking to the Royal Guard. Augustus was taken aback. "How did you know?" he asked in his booming voice. She bowed slightly. "I'm Twilight Sparkle, Princess Celestia's loyal student. I sent her a report about the incident."

Softhoof and his large companion exchanged a look laden with significance. "I see," he said, "then this meeting is more fortuitous than I realized. We need to examine the crime scene and ask you some questions. First of all, what are you doing out here?"

Twilight turned back to the patch of ground she had been examining. "I was taking molds of the hoof-prints that were left behind. Here," she said, hefting a chunk of plaster, "it should be solid enough. Have a look."

Snoop examined the mold carefully. It was a bizarre print indeed. He had never seen its like before and could not deny his fascination. No creature he knew of would leave tracks like that. The contours were wrong for anything with hooves as he understood them, and there were no claws or digits. The patterns on the bottom were neat in a way, ordered. "Too ordered to be natural," he muttered to himself.

Setting the mold down, he combed the scene carefully. Following the splashes of blood and confused prints, he worked his way to a single fence post. The grass at the bottom was pressed, where a weight had sat for some time. There was something bothering Snoop, and it was centered on that spot.

Augustus and Twilight watched Snoop's curious dance about the crime scene, and continued to observe as he stopped by the fence post and stood stock-still for a long time, staring at the ground. "What's he doing?" Twilight asked in a hushed tone.

Augustus shrugged. "I have no idea. I met him for the first time yesterday, and we aren't exactly friends." In truth, he had come to dislike the little PI. He was not known for his patience, and Softhoof had tried him several times already. Only his training gave him the discipline to deal with such an irritating individual. Augustus had to suppress a snort at the thought that, before joining the Guard, he would have thrashed Snoop soundly by now.

"AHA!" The shout from Softhoof made Twilight jump. Augustus merely scanned to ensure his charge was not in immediate danger, and tensed slightly to leap to his defense as necessary. However, Softhoof was not in any danger. He was still staring intently at the spot by the fence post, now with an excited expression.

"I have made progress," he said when he finally looked up, "Come, look here." The trio stood over by the fencepost. "At first," Softhoof began, "I was confused. Putting aside the sheer oddity of the tracks, the pattern made very little sense. It seems as though the suspect was simply lying against the fence post here, where the grass is still pressed. Apparently they were there for some time."

Snoop paused, mentally clarifying his thought process as he often had to when explaining a situation to the detectives back home. "The two things that confused me were the prints of your friends as they relate to their attacker's position, and the curious lack of approaching prints on the part of said attacker."

"What do you mean?" asked Twilight, genuinely curious. She had read books about mysteries, and enjoyed them, so being involved in a real one was exciting. She had to remind herself that two of her friends were in the hospital, and that this investigation would, if successful, lead to a confrontation with the one responsible.

"In the first place," said Snoop, concealing his displeasure at the disruption, "the attacker lay here for some time, and made no effort to hide. In point of fact, whatever hurt your friends was lying in plain sight. There was no ambush, no mindless attack. The victims approached, albeit timidly, of their own volition. This leads me to believe that our culprit is non-threatening in appearance, although undeniably odd. That is the part that I now understand. The second puzzle, however, is somewhat more problematic." He turned to look again at the tracks leading off away from the scene, and Twilight followed his gaze.

"There," the PI continued, no longer trying to hide an expression of distaste, "Those tracks lead away, clearly our culprit fleeing. But how did it get here?" Twilight looked confused. "Well," she said hesitantly, "wouldn't he have walked?"

"You would think so," Softhoof nodded, turning back to the scene, "but then, where are the approaching tracks? Wherever it came from, it would have left tracks indicating the direction and manner of its approach. If it could fly, why run away from the scene? Even supposing it were injured and could no longer fly, there would be a landing point, prints deepened by impact. There's no way to approach this point except by walking."

"Alright," said Twilight, "so how did it get here?" Softhoof looked at her, then up at the sky. He closed his eyes and took several deep breathes, wondering at how an intelligent pony could miss something so obvious.

"To put it simply," he said at last, "Whatever did this came into existence at this exact spot. Whatever it is, it did not dwell in Equestria anywhere else, it simply came into being. Right here."

Augustus snorted in amusement. "Very good," he said, "and I'm a seahorse and the little lady here has eight heads." The big stallion had known this was going nowhere. All that fancy talking and education, it made a pony arrogant, given to sudden madness. "Softhoof, we need to get to work. Save your impossible ravings for somepony else."

Snoop chuckled, shaking his head. "No no, my dear Trot, not impossible. Merely improbable." Augustus glared at the PI, disliking his patronizing tone. "See here," Softhoof continued, "Once you have eliminated any impossible scenarios, whatever remains, however unlikely and remote the possibility, must be the truth."

As much as Augustus disliked being patronized, he absolutely hated that the little gray pony sounded very much like he knew what he was talking about, and that the words themselves made sense, and as insane as the proposition was, he didn't have a better theory. "So now what?"

"To the hospital," Snoop responded in his best impression of a heroic voice, "The victims are the only witnesses, and I have questions."

Sweat poured down Silas' face. He had rarely felt so exhausted. The pain in his side had spread to a broad chunk of his torso, and his breathing was labored. He had walked for what felt like days, but couldn't have been more than a matter of hours. The forest had been cool at first, but the sun had risen, and the hot, wet air dragged at his strength.

Abruptly, the vegetation parted. He found himself standing on cobblestones, ancient and overgrown with moss. Silas sat down, deciding that he would deal with the oddity of the sudden change in a moment when he could feel his chest again. His throat felt like it was full of sandpaper, and swallowing hurt. He could never remember getting so dehydrated so quickly.

At last, he raised his eyes to see what lay before him. He felt his adrenaline spike as he came face to face with a snarling visage straight from a nightmare. He fell back, performed a perfect roll, and came up with his knife in hand, ready to fight for his life. He ignored the pain in his chest as he gave voice to a wordless roar that left his throat completely raw, a challenge to the very world to come and take his life if it was foolish enough to think it could.

Zecora started. She had felt the suspense building for some time, and the peculiar anxiety of the forest's denizens was infectious. When the horrific bellow of rage and pain echoed out through the trees, it stopped her heart for a moment. The origin of that sound was so full of suffering, fear, and agony; she wondered that there was any creature that could feel so many horrible things and live.

She dispensed with any pretense of calm and started galloping. It was coming from the north still, due north. The only thing within the Everfree forest that far north was . . . . "Oh dear, oh my, oh please, oh no, not that place, say it isn't so," she huffed as the trees whipped by.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, so I've refrained from adding any notes up until now, just let readers get a feel for the story. Thing is, I NEED REVIEWS! I know, I'm terrible and I crave attention far more than is appropriate. I want to know what my readers are thinking. Good, bad, ugly? Constructive criticism, please and thank you.<strong>


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